


A World That Does Not Exist

by anr



Category: Star Wars RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-24
Updated: 2008-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 14:28:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anr/pseuds/anr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not quite a lie, but not quite the whole truth either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A World That Does Not Exist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dirty_diana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirty_diana/gifts).



> Request: Carrie/Harrison/Mark (any combination), drinking games and maybe something set during filming.

Harrison finds her in one of the guest bedrooms, a bottle of vodka beside her and a bowl of peanuts in her lap. The room is dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the chinese lanterns outside, and he watches her raise a hand to shield her eyes when he turns on the light.

"You okay, kid?"

"Until you flicked that switch, sure." He turns off the light and she drops her hand. "Thanks."

"No problem." Stepping into the room, he pulls the door shut behind him. "Who're you hiding from?"

"Vader."

He rolls his eyes. "Otherwise known as...?"

"George." She waves a hand towards the open window. "He keeps wanting to introduce me to everyone."

Crossing the room, he pulls up a piece of carpet opposite her. "What's wrong with that?"

She snorts and then takes a shot straight from the bottle. "And this here," she drawls after she's swallowed, deepening her voice almost comically, "is Debbie Reynolds and Eddie Fisher's daughter, Carrie..."

He winces. "Ouch."

Nodding, she tilts the bottle in his direction. "Cheers."

  


* * *

  


The first time he met her, he couldn't resist making a crack about her height. She was clearly young and seemingly naive -- pretty enough, maybe, with her hair loose about her shoulders -- but it was the way she flushed deep red and bit her lip instead of defending herself that intrigued him. He had a feeling that, despite her size, she didn't do meek very often and _that_ made him wonder:

What _did_ she do?

  


* * *

  


She shares the vodka without him needing to ask and, while it's not his favourite choice, it's wet and alcoholic and that's pretty much his only criteria for the moment.

"Who's your Vader?" she asks after awhile, watching him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

He shrugs. "No one. Everyone." Not quite a lie, but not quite the whole truth either. He has no desire to discuss his marital life with her. "I don't do parties."

"For a promo event, this one's not so bad," she says, taking back the bottle. "Food's decent enough and at least they hired a band that can sing."

"Says the girl hiding upstairs with a bowl of peanuts."

She throws one at him and it bounces off his forehead. "Fuck you."

"Sorry, kid." He finds the peanut and throws it back. "I don't do requests."

  


* * *

  


She was an enigma to him, a fucking five foot nothing slip of a girl who was almost half his age and not nearly as fascinated with him as he was with her. He'd watch her with Mark, the two of them giggling over each retake, and yet with him she was deferential and sweet, the perfect little angel. Mark would look to him for guidance and approval after their scenes together, so eager to learn and please, and she'd do the same only --

Only on her it was an _act_ , another role: playing little sister to his big brother, hating her hairdo and yet refusing to say so, wanting character inspiration and not finding any. Every little thing she did and said was a performance and he couldn't help thinking she must be _exhausted_. Turning it on for even a few hours tired him out and she never fucking switched it _off_.

  


* * *

  


The vodka evaporates pretty quickly between the two of them and he's thinking he should probably head back down -- maybe find out where Mary has gotten off to -- when she reaches underneath the bed she's leaning against and drags out another bottle.

"Christ, kid -- you got a fucking still under there too?"

"Don't call me kid, old man," she retorts, passing him the bottle. "You up for it or not?"

He unscrews the lid and knocks back a good shot or two before handing it over. "You'd be surprised what I'm up for, _kid_."

She flips him off while she drinks and he's impressed by both her co-ordination and her alcohol tolerance. With her body mass, and the way they've been drinking, she _should_ be unconscious.

"When'd you learn how to put away the hard stuff, anyway? Last I checked, twenty-one was still the going rate and you were a buck and change short." He smirks. "Literally."

She gives him the finger again but shrugs. "Who cares? It's not like a binge or two'll hurt me."

"Give you a hell of hangover, though."

"That's what aspirin, raw eggs and tomato juice are for."

His stomach turns over at the mere thought. "You got an answer for everything, or for just me?"

She grins. "Ask me something new and I'll tell you."

  


* * *

  


A Rodeo Drive celebrity brat determined not to make any waves in public, most likely because her parents already had the monopoly on throwing up tsunamis every few years. She should have been spoilt and demanding, the ultimate golden spoon rich kid with a stick up her ass, and the fact that she seemed and played the exact opposite...

  


* * *

  


She kisses the way she acts -- sugar coating dark depths -- and he falls for it every time.

Dragging her onto his lap, he buries one hand into waves of hair, his other sliding along the outside of her thigh. She is as responsive as all fuck, licking into his mouth and sucking on his bottom lip until he hisses at her not to leave a mark.

"Leave him?" she asks, breaking away with a grin. "But I'm not even _with_ him."

He's got smooth skin under his palm, and a lap full of raw lust, so it takes him a moment to work out the joke. When he does, he growls. "Shut up, kid."

She laughs and grinds down against him. " _Make me_."

  


* * *

  


The first time he _really_ met her, she let him push her up against a set wall and kiss her senseless. It was a test, he told himself at the time, a one-off exercise to see just how deep her acting veneer really lay and if he could make it break, to see if he couldn't out act _her_.

He failed.

  


* * *

The End

**Author's Note:**

> ORIGINAL URL: <http://anr.livejournal.com/321585.html>


End file.
